November 10, 2013

"The Day Was a Bargain" [by Ron Horning]

No
matter how happy or comfortable I think I am in room 111,reading
Flowers by the window, Playback stretched out in bed,or
seated at the desk, near the ashtray on which a Lucky burns,typing
notes from the steno pad that could lead to more poems,

eventually
I have to get out. My idea of hell is too much heaven(an
idea I wouldn’t defend, though I also don’t care what X said)so
out I go, to Washington Square Park, maybe, for a few turnsaround
the outer edge of a greener world, near church and signs,

or,
further out, the Art Institute, or down to Market by Chinatown,or
even, if I really want to walk, all the way to Golden Gate Park,or,
to cross the Bay, the foot of Broadway for Berkeley by thumb.

Speeding
over the Bay Bridge can by itself erase the deepest frownand
the driver’s almost certain to suggest a joint. I’m home by darkand,
having bowled up in a VW on the way back, pleasantly numb.

Comments

"The Day Was a Bargain" [by Ron Horning]

No
matter how happy or comfortable I think I am in room 111,reading
Flowers by the window, Playback stretched out in bed,or
seated at the desk, near the ashtray on which a Lucky burns,typing
notes from the steno pad that could lead to more poems,

eventually
I have to get out. My idea of hell is too much heaven(an
idea I wouldn’t defend, though I also don’t care what X said)so
out I go, to Washington Square Park, maybe, for a few turnsaround
the outer edge of a greener world, near church and signs,

or,
further out, the Art Institute, or down to Market by Chinatown,or
even, if I really want to walk, all the way to Golden Gate Park,or,
to cross the Bay, the foot of Broadway for Berkeley by thumb.

Speeding
over the Bay Bridge can by itself erase the deepest frownand
the driver’s almost certain to suggest a joint. I’m home by darkand,
having bowled up in a VW on the way back, pleasantly numb.